


parasocial

by nighttables



Series: parasocial [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Yamaguchi Tadashi, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Possessive Tsukishima Kei, Rough Sex, Slut Shaming, Smut, Top Tsukishima Kei, Verbal Humiliation, but goes to every volleyball game just to see him, he's being punk'd a little, this is more romantic than it sounds but still fucky, yamaguchi doesn't join the volleyball club after tsukishima saves him, yamaguchi wants it but is afraid he's being punk'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighttables/pseuds/nighttables
Summary: After Tsukishima Kei's last volleyball game of his senior year, Yamaguchi seizes his last chance to introduce himself to the classmate he's idolized since he was eleven years old.It doesn't go the way he expects it to.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: parasocial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754905
Comments: 16
Kudos: 445





	parasocial

**Author's Note:**

> this took an embarrassingly long time to write and was not meant to have this much plot. thank you if you helped me with this.
> 
> read the tags please! this ended up more romantic and less fucky than i intended but it is still fucky. tweaked the relationship dynamics for flavor. i named this fic "bakudeku au" in my files if that explains anything. if that does not explain anything, please skip to the end notes for more detailed warnings.
> 
> please enjoy this fic if you are so inclined.

His name is Yamaguchi Tadashi, he’s smart enough to be in the other honors section, and he lives with his mother in a two-bedroom apartment. He’s attended every single volleyball match Kei’s played in since he was eleven.

It’s lucky, probably. That Kei caught a glimpse of his club manager talking to him in the hallway. They’d never been close, so she’d been surprised when he took her aside to ask about him, but she smiled when he mentioned Yamaguchi. _The boy with the freckles who comes to every match._

 _Ah, that’s Yamaguchi-kun! You know, Tsukishima-kun, if you’re curious about him, I could introduce you two!_ The playful shyness of her smile, angled away from him. A secret on the edge of her lips that came off like a joke.

Funny, that Yachi thought Kei didn’t know. As if someone as observant as him wouldn’t notice the same gangly figure in the bleachers. Every game he played his entire life since he was eleven.

 _I’ll meet him if he asks,_ he’d said, and Yachi’s grin was enough to split open her face. He wondered, then, if that was the reason Yamaguchi became friends with her at all, but if Yamaguchi were smart enough to do that he would have made real friends before her. That seat next to him wouldn’t always be empty.

( _He doesn’t know why it’s always bothered him. That seat being empty._ )

It should have been enough. Kei thought it would be. But he forgot every game he was only a staircase away from Yamaguchi, every day a classroom down. Even if Kei coordinated this, an opportunity to fall into his lap like this, he’d still be too much of a coward to take it.

Pathetic.

Yachi thinks it’s cute. Not like that, because Kei can tell by how she laughs when Kei asks about him that she’d never look at Yamaguchi that way, and he knows he’s never been Yachi’s type. Maybe if the two of them were different genders. But it doesn’t matter; Kei’s never cared for her like that, and it’s obvious Yamaguchi only has eyes for him.

Unless it’s something else. Unless he’s projecting some sick hero worship fantasy on Kei, some ridiculous platonic obsession and there’s another fantasy he’s projecting on Yachi, the first friend he’s ever made, the girl who smiles every time she hears his name. Just one more thing he’s too scared to pursue.

Even more than he wants to every time he looks at him. The thought makes Kei want to throw up.

Still. It’s stupid. To be thinking about him now, on the train ride home.

It’s because Nationals is soon, Kei wants to tell himself, and he’ll see him in the stands again (Kei remembers how annoyed he’d been the first time – imagine going all the way to Tokyo only to sit alone in the bleachers the way you always do and then go home after.) but saying that would be ignoring the way his mind drifts to the freckled teen in the bleachers the times that lectures run dry, when his mind is wandering as he tries to go to sleep.

It wasn’t like this before. Kei knows this acutely, but it’s hard to remember what things were like when they weren’t this way. He was still aware of Yamaguchi – if he wasn’t he’d never ask about him – but it’d tasted different then. Every game he played, feeling the gazes of his teammates on him, the gazes of the team they were playing against. Carefully considering the thoughts in their head, what they expected him to do next, what he should do instead.

And then, on another level, somewhere in the back of his mind. Yamaguchi’s gaze from the bleachers. Knowing that this was the only time Yamaguchi let himself look at him, fully and unabashed, the only time he had to impress him. Playing hard because he was supposed to and he didn’t go to volleyball practice for nothing, but also, if he played well enough, maybe it would be enough to bring Yamaguchi from the bleachers to the space in front of him.

He still does that now, but the feeling of Yamaguchi looking at him, the knowledge of it – it’s so much heavier now, something that isn’t inspiring anymore but a foe he has to defeat. Something he has to knock out completely so it’ll stop drowning out everything else around him.

He’s never played better. Still…

The way it’s consumed his life. Maybe it wasn’t a good outlet, having Yachi to talk to about Yamaguchi. Yachi who could detail his home life, his favorite movies, his favorite foods. The things he liked to talk about with her. Knowing the answers to his idle Yamaguchi-related curiosities, more common now that he could satisfy them.

Knowing they weren’t things he learned firsthand. That he needed them filtered through someone else. That Yamaguchi would never—

It doesn’t matter.

He’s a coward.

♜

Kei asks Yachi, eventually. How they became friends.

_Oh. It’s— I saw him sitting alone one day during lunch, and uh…. I guess since I always try to make sure everyone’s okay on the volleyball club— Oh, not you, though, Tsukishima-kun! You don’t need it. But, um… I got used to it. Trying to make people feel better. So I sat next to him._

Something cool in Kei’s chest, that doesn’t burn or twist the way he thought he would. Yachi biting her lip when Kei doesn’t reply, eyes darting up to look at him and then settling on the ground.

_It’s kind of sad, actually. He was… really surprised when I started talking to him. I don’t— I always tell you, but he’s really nice, you know? I don’t know why everyone... Well, he seems happier now, though! He laughs a lot. My friends in homeroom have gotten pretty fond of him, too._

He’d prepared himself to be angry, at Yamaguchi more than Yachi but still having to hide the bitterness under his tongue. He can’t be on bad terms with the team manager, but even more than that, she’s not a connection he can afford to lose. The reason Kei knows anything more about Yamaguchi than his name.

( _Even though Kei’s known him longer. Even though Yamaguchi’s been aware of him – watching from the stands,_ every single game _– longer. Even though—_ )

It doesn’t matter. There’s something satisfying in it, that the only reason Yamaguchi made his was that Yachi forced herself next to him and he’s always been too weak-willed to do anything other than go along with what the people around him are doing. The thought makes him laugh, but—

Yamaguchi is happier now, friends with students in the other honors class by sheer coincidence. People who ignored him before, who didn’t even see him. Yachi, who’s so close to him only because she feels bad for him.

Kei thanked her for telling him, he remembers. But as he did, he clenched his fist.

♜

They lose to Inarizaki.

It isn’t Kei’s mistake – isn’t anyone’s mistake, only a terrible combination of a difference in skill and bad luck – but the loss tastes like iron in his mouth. That they’d been so close to winning all of it, that if things were slightly different, they might have won. Volleyball is important to Kei, even if that passion only began because of something else.

If his block hadn’t been smashed through, maybe he would’ve been cool enough that Yamaguchi might have made the minimum effort to meet him. If they won Nationals, first place, then he had to—

He’s mad after they lose. It takes everything in Kei to not become melodramatic in a way he’s never been before, holding back the desire to punch a hole in the wall, slam doors that shut naturally on their own. The state that he usually likes riling people into.

But just as he’s leaving the locker room, hovering by the corner near the public men’s room on the ground floor, Kei sees him. Yamaguchi.

The anger evaporates, or twists itself into something else. Yamaguchi, in his lap after all that time he’s spent thinking about him. Something like the universe giving him a consolation prize after dealing him a bad hand. Losing to Inarizaki, or giving him a pathetic fan too scared to meet him all the way until the last game of his third year.

But. Waiting for Kei, maybe. Waiting for his club manager, far more likely. It’s a terrible thought, but approaching him first, forcing Yamaguchi into his presence. Being the same as Yachi. That thought makes his stomach turn.

Still, Yamaguchi doesn’t see him yet, and this is the first time they’ve been this close. It’s something to just look at him, and Kei thinks he deserves the right after the years that Yamaguchi’s been doing the same to him.

And it’s worth it. The way his hips sway as he paces nervously from side to side. The wide expanse of his back, lean and flat. And his messy chestnut hair, tied back into a ponytail. That little piece that always sticks up in the middle. What Kei always used to look for when he searched for him in the stands.

But there was something else, too. The sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose, scattered on his cheeks. His eyes, dark from far away. The ones Kei fantasized about being so close to he could see his reflection in them.

It takes everything in Kei, then, to stop himself from walking up to Yamaguchi and tapping him on the shoulder, just to see his face from this distance, but he finds it. Being desperate like that would be…

Kei shakes his head and turns around, to rejoin his team, find his way to the bus, but before he’s even halfway down the hallway—

“Ah, Tsukishima-san!”

It’s not a voice Kei recognizes, but the second he hears it, it feels as though he’s been listening to it his entire life. He knows it, immediately. Yamaguchi. “Hm?”

Kei turns around, then, and Yamaguchi is standing there behind him. He must have run after him at the sound of his footsteps.

It’s almost unreal, being this close. He can see all of it: the pink of his lips, rosy and chapped. Flecks of amber in his dark irises. Freckles sprinkled on the bridge of his nose and the round of his cheeks.

Kei wonders, briefly. How many people have been able to see him this closely. How many people that didn’t appreciate it.

( _How many people that did._ )

“I’m, uh— I’m Yamaguchi! Yamaguchi Tadashi. Ah, um, I guess you can call me Tadashi-kun if you want! We went to the same elementary school. Though, uh…” Yamaguchi laughs nervously, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I— it doesn’t really matter.”

“What do you need, Yamaguchi?” Kei asks, pronouncing his name like it’s the first time he’s heard it. His tone is too curt, on the edge of exasperated. It’s dangerous, he knows. The game he’s playing. That the kind of coward Yamaguchi is he could scurry away at any moment.

But Kei can’t help it. The way that nervous smile fades, how Yamaguchi’s eyes fall just for a moment before he puts the façade back up. It’s cute, somehow. The second he sees it, he starts calculating the things he needs to do to see it again.

Yamaguchi laughs, empty, and then breathes in deeply, puffs up his chest. Kei holds back a smile.

“I wanted to tell you that you played really well today! I… I’m sad, too, that it’s the last game I’ll get to see you play this year— Oh, uh, not that, um— I know you’re probably a lot sadder, but… that’s one of the coolest games I’ve ever seen you play!”

Yamaguchi’s eyes are shining brightly, more than Kei ever could have imagined they could a minute ago. There’s something swirling in Kei’s chest that he’s never felt before, warm and bursting. It’s funny, how five minutes with Yamaguchi can make Kei forget the results of the volleyball match he’d been in twenty minutes before.

Maybe it was this he was upset about. Kei can’t remember what being upset is like anymore.

Absently, Kei wonders if Yachi has ever seen this look in his eyes.

“And I— Well, maybe it’s kind of strange, but… I’ve been watching you since elementary school and I wanted to thank you for… for playing so well today! For, uh. Always playing so well. I… Until this year, things have been… It’s always made me really happy to see you play, so!”

“I know,” Kei says. Curt, again. He watches Yamaguchi’s face fall, just for a second before he starts smiling. Something about that. He wonders what it would take to make him keep that expression.

“Oh.” Half a minute of silence, and then Yamaguchi laughs, rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I wouldn’t come watch you so much if—”

“No. I know you’ve been watching me since elementary school,” Kei corrects him, and he watches Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, maybe with something like excitement. Something pleasant swirls in Kei’s chest as he crushes it. “It’s kind of pathetic, how obsessed with me you are.”

Yamaguchi’s lip quivers. He turns his gaze to his feet. “I— I don’t—”

Kei reaches for his wrist, and then moves at the last second. Fits his fingers into his. Yamaguchi’s head darts up, then, and Kei looks him in the face.

Yamaguchi’s palm is warm in Kei’s own. He wonders if it’s conveying something, or if Yamaguchi is reading a message in the larger hand over his. Kei can’t imagine his expression right now, can’t control whatever emotion he’s feeling if it’s making its way to his face.

This moment is unreal. Kei never thought this far, never ventured to imagine further than finally being able to meet Yamaguchi in the stands after a game. Like he might jinx it by assuming it could happen at all.

But being here now – Yamaguchi’s hand in his – he knows. He must have always wanted this, must have always known he’d do this if Yamaguchi came to meet him.

And the look on Yamaguchi’s face. Awe shining behind black pupils, pink lips open in a small circle. Like the words Kei just said to him were never spoken. He must have always wanted this, too.

Kei tugs gently on Yamaguchi’s arm. “Come,” he says. No explanation.

Yamaguchi does.

♜

For the entire time that Kei walks with Yamaguchi to the train station and purchases their tickets, Yamaguchi doesn’t talk. Instead, he rotates between staring at Kei with the widest eyes he’s ever seen and then looking away when Kei turns to glance at him. Periodically, he makes a sound like he’s going to say something, looks at Kei, and then rethinks it.

It matches Yachi’s description of him. Hesitant, unassuming, never ever rude, never ever assertive. It annoys him that he had to learn it from Yachi before he witnessed it, but he’s with Yamaguchi now, he reminds himself. Stupid to waste time thinking of Yachi.

But the second they step off the stairs, off the platform onto the train already pulled into the station, Yamaguchi starts to talk. It’s slow at first, small comments on how he’s still not used to Tokyo trains despite how many times he’s come to see them at Nationals, his opinion on the relative temperature of the train, and then… like he’s testing a trip wire, describing the first time he ever saw Kei play.

It’s not that interesting of a story – Kei only started playing well after he noticed Yamaguchi, some point when his brother quit volleyball and told him to keep carrying the mantle (Kei can’t remember when that was anymore) – but he nods as Yamaguchi tells it, doesn’t care enough to tell him to stop. There’s something about the sound of Yamaguchi’s voice, something that trumps the silence his teammates taught him to treasure.

It’s that first nod, the first _mm_ , that does it, and Yamaguchi bursts like a dam. A thousand stories of the cool things that Yamaguchi saw Kei do on the volleyball court and exactly what Yamaguchi was doing when he saw them, a play-by-play of everything he thought.

There’s something about Yamaguchi like this. _It’s cute_ , Kei remembers Yachi telling him. Something unsubtle behind her smile. _Usually he’s quiet, but he gets excited when he’s talking about something he really likes!_

Of course Kei knew she’d been talking about him, even if she brought up the way he’d rambled on about the cat that lived in the bakery near his apartment, but it’s different, seeing it in front of him this way. There’s still a feeling in the back of his mind, one that’s usually in the forefront, about wiping the smile off his face, making him cry, but…

The sound of his voice this way, steady and confident like it never is. It’s almost as nice as it is when it’s shaking. And a little bit rarer, too.

Kei is thinking about this as he half-listens to Yamaguchi’s long winded and partially nonsensical stories, about a time one of Hinata’s serves became a free ball, but Kei smacked it back – it’s a play that feels like years ago now – and then Yamaguchi suddenly goes silent.

Kei looks over, and the happy look on his face has disappeared, replaced with the closed, nervous one he’d seen in the gymnasium. Something like bitterness washes over him.

That annoying face again, and not even because of Kei. He…

“Is it okay?”

“Hm?” Kei asks. Their fingers are still intertwined. Kei relishes in the feeling of his skin against his, the stares they draw from the people around him. How it makes Yamaguchi close into himself, but he won’t let go. Like if he does, he might disappear.

“You didn’t…” Yamaguchi won’t look at him. “Yachi-chan told me. I always knew, too. That the team always goes out after a game. Or at least, you all go home together. I used to imagine— Um. You’re here with me.”

“I am. And an hour ago, I lost the last match of my high school career,” Kei says, and his words are harsh enough to make Yamaguchi flinch. But the sting that should have accompanied that realization, after the way his chest felt crushed on the court. It isn’t present, swallowed up by the person sitting next to him. “Shut up, Yamaguchi. If I wanted to waste my time listening to my teammates drown their sorrows, I would be.”

Yamaguchi shifts in his seat, hides his face. Kei can’t tell what he’s thinking. _Annoying._ His hand wanders closer to Yamaguchi’s on the subway seat, until their fingers brush. Yamaguchi turns to look at him then, whatever clouded look on his face now clear. Kei can see his reflection in his pupils.

“This is more important,” Kei says, turning away from Yamaguchi, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. Even though it’s only Yamaguchi. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”

“Oh, um…” Yamaguchi’s cheeks are glowing red now. There’s something satisfying about the sight of it, like a strawberry. Kei wants to bite into it. “Sorry, Tsukishima-san.”

“Mm.”

Yamaguchi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and the silence around them that follows is louder than any of Kageyama and Hinata’s unnecessary fights.

“Don’t suddenly clam up. It’s annoying,” Kei says, moving to overlap Yamaguchi’s fingers with his own. “You were telling a story, weren’t you? Something about the time we played Johzenji.”

Yamaguchi grins, then, the kind of smile as bright as the sun. Kei imagines kissing it off his face. “Sorry, Tsukishima-san! I think I left off… when they tried to copy your synchronized attack? And then the yellow-haired guy tried to score but you were there, and…!”

♜

Yamaguchi gets more nervous as the streets they trawl get seedier and seedier. Kei can feel his grip on his palm tighten as he leads him by the hand, how his strides become shorter and more careful.

Kei is from Miyagi, too, but he’s used to Tokyo streets after Nekoma upperclassmen forced him to go out with them in exchange for teaching him how to block. Awful group dates where they tried to set him up with people they seemed to pick randomly out of a hat. Girls with cute faces, girls with huge chests, obnoxious guys he could see eye-to-eye with, tiny guys too timid to look him in the face.

_I’ll find your type eventually, Glasses-kun! Don’t want you to be lonely when we all graduate._

It’d been annoying. Annoying, too, when they’d jokingly invite him to love hotels with their boyfriends because he seemed so pent up. He didn’t understand it, then, wanted them to leave him alone, but he’s grateful for it now.

Grateful that he could recognize the stirring feeling in his chest when he saw Yachi talking to Yamaguchi the first time as what they’d been talking about. Grateful that he can look at Yamaguchi now and know what a type is.

Grateful that they’d drag him every time to a dingy love hotel hidden away in the corner of Tokyo, with rooms cheap enough a high schooler could pay for them.

“Ah, Tsu-Tsukishima-san, why did we stop here? Did you want to spend the night in Tokyo? Um… I always give the money I don’t need from my part-time job to my mom, since she works so hard, so I really only have enough money to pay for the train ticket back, and—”

Yamaguchi’s babbling, face red again, and Kei can’t stop himself from leaning forward and pinching one of his cheeks. It shuts him up. “Useless. I knew you wouldn’t have the money. I remember being surprised you were able to make it to Tokyo all by yourself. I’ll pay for it, Yamaguchi.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says, and hurt flashes on his face in a way that goes straight to Kei’s groin. He’d forgotten the way he treated him earlier. Cute. “But uh— why would we—”

There’s one reason to go to a love hotel. Even Yamaguchi isn’t stupid enough to not know it. “I want to be alone with you.”

“There’s a, uh— There’s lots of places we can be alone! I think we passed a manga café on the way here, or— my mom works really late, so when we get back to Miyagi, you can stop by my apartment if you— if you want! Or…”

The idea is appealing. Yamaguchi on his back in a manga café, desperately trying to muffle his moans as Kei twists and tongues at his nipples, pumps fingers in his ass. Having Yamaguchi in the bed he slept in since they were children, hand covering his mouth so his mother doesn’t hear the sounds he makes as Kei splits him open with his cock, rough and merciless. Tears streaming from Yamaguchi’s face.

But Yamaguchi is so cute like this, talking nonsense, pretending to miss the obvious implications of the building they’re standing in front of, cheeks so hot Kei can feel them from where he’s standing. Kei can’t wait the entire train ride it takes to get to Miyagi, and he wants to fuck him right.

“If you don’t want to, you can leave,” Kei says, rubbing circles into the inside of Yamaguchi’s wrist.

His eyes widen, then, and Kei can see him consider it. But he looks at their intertwined hands then, and then Kei’s face, and he moves his gaze to the concrete beneath them and shakes his head.

Yamaguchi follows him into the love hotel.

♜

The room is nothing special, a bed and an attached bathroom and green walls. It’d be depressing if Yamaguchi weren’t hanging off the side of the bed, nervously glancing at the sex toy menu on the night-table and immediately looking away when he feels Kei’s eyes on him.

They’re silent a second, Yamaguchi fiddling with his hands. “I, uh… I texted my mom I wasn’t going home tonight while you were in the bathroom. Since we rented this room. You should text your mom, too, so she doesn’t worry!”

“I’ll text her later,” Kei says, and something pleasant stirs in his chest. This is cute, too, this strangely wholesome concern. Kei wonders what he was thinking when he told his mother he wouldn’t be coming home. If he’s still deluding himself into believing nothing will happen while they’re here.

Yamaguchi smiles at him, different from the huge grin that splits open his face when he talks about the last game Kei played in, smaller but just as real. Maybe he’s happy Kei didn’t brush him off. He rubs the back of his neck. “You know, when I introduced myself to you, I really thought— Well, since you’re such a great player, and you’re so cool, I thought I’d just thank you, and then you’d leave. I never thought— I guess I’m just happy you wanted to spend so much time with me. So, uh. Thank you again, Tsukishima-san.”

Kei feels his own face go hot. It’s funny; Kei could have predicted Yamaguchi thought of him this way, has always thought of Yamaguchi as pathetic for it, but it’s embarrassing, the way Yamaguchi can look him in the face and say things like this. It’s…

Kei doesn’t know what to say in return. He hears Yamaguchi laugh lightly, and then for a while, they’re silent. When Kei can finally bring himself to look at him, Yamaguchi is studying the wall.

After a minute, Yamaguchi coughs.

“Oh, um! What did, um… What did you want to talk about? Since we’re alone now.” Yamaguchi still won’t look straight at him. He rubs the back of his neck.

 _Talk about._ Kei shakes his head. He came here for a reason, and it’s stupid to get flustered in front of someone as pathetic with Yamaguchi. He’s obsessed with him. He’s been obsessed with him since middle school.

Kei sits in the bed next to him. Looks him straight in the eye. He knows exactly what he wants.

“I want you to suck my cock,” he says. “You’ve thought about it before, haven’t you?”

Shock lights up Yamaguchi’s pupils, but he doesn’t turn his gaze from Kei. Maybe he can’t. “I—” Kei watches as Yamaguchi bites his lip, and then releases it. As his tongue pokes out to wet his mouth. “I never—”

He’s lying. It really isn’t good for Yamaguchi, being this easy to read. “If you don’t want to,” Kei says again, slowly, “you can leave.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t say anything, eyes still trained on Kei, and then he stands up—

And sinks to his knees.

Something in his chest frenzied, heart beating so hard he can feel it in his eardrums, Kei stands up.

Yamaguchi is awkward as he moves towards Kei, hesitant to put his face anywhere near his boxers, hesitant to even touch the waistband and pull it down. Just _looking_ , eyes darting around the room but always returning to the outline of Kei’s cock in his underwear.

The little bit of fear, little bit of anxiety exuding from Yamaguchi as he kneels in front of Kei. But that drip of something darker behind his pupils as his eyes drift back. It’s only Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi who’s so uncool the first thing he did in a love hotel was call his mother, Yamaguchi who thought they came here to talk, but…

The feeling of Yamaguchi’s gaze on him. How he’s so afraid to move forward and touch it but can’t look away, can’t focus on anything else.

It’s sexy. Kei feels himself get hard in his pants.

The leadup is almost too long, and Kei thinks about curling a hand around the back of his scalp and pulling his face against his dick. But Yamaguchi’s eyes narrow, determination more than suspicion, and he fixes a hand to awkwardly hold the side of Kei’s hip, and then buries his nose into his boxers.

It disappears that quickly, all the fear, the hesitation. Yamaguchi’s eyelids are closed now, almost serenely, and Kei can feel the warm breath from his now-open mouth, as his tongue starts to press against the length of Kei’s dick—

And Kei cards his hands through his hair, tugs his head back so they’re looking each other in the eyes.

It’s almost funny, seeing Yamaguchi like this. How he keeps trying to draw himself out of the intensity of Kei’s gaze to stare at his cock, but always gets sucked back in. His tongue sliding over chapped lips, just slightly open. Tears starting to well up in pitch-black pupils.

He’s perfect this way, Kei thinks to himself. He wonders what it would be like if Yamaguchi could always look like this. If Yamaguchi had the guts to introduce himself to him earlier.

“Tell me what you want. Don’t lie this time.”

“I—“ Yamaguchi chokes out, his nails digging into Kei’s side. “Please—”

Kei pulls his hair back little bit harder, quickly, roughly. Only a second. A tear rolls down Yamaguchi’s cheek, and Kei ignores the part of him that wants to taste it. “ _Tell me what you want._ ”

“I— I want to suck your cock, Tsukishima-kun!” he finally says, and the words sound foreign in Yamaguchi’s voice.

The same boy who spent so many years in the bleachers afraid to even try to introduce himself to Kei after a game, in the classroom, after Kei went out of his way to make it easy for him, on his knees now in front of him in a love hotel. Kei feels himself grin.

“Please let me— Please let me suck your cock!” Kei hears, and there’s a whine in Yamaguchi’s voice now, something desperate he’s never heard before. Kei made him wait too long. He laughs, the sound sharp and short.

“Eh, you really are a whore, aren’t you, Yamaguchi?” Kei asks, keeping his eyes trained on his, a little narrowed now. “The first time we talk and you’re begging for my dick.”

Yamaguchi is _desperate_ , but he can’t tear his gaze away from him this time, can only kneel there and bask in the words that Kei is sending his way. Kei can feel him turning the word _whore_ over in his head, how he’s trying to deny it but can’t, can’t stop thinking of how immediately he reacted to the scent of his cock.

Kei remembers the look on his face. Eyes closed, the way he breathed him in. Like for a second he was in heaven.

“I’m not— I don’t—” Yamaguchi stops abruptly, looks at what’s in front of him, looks at Kei’s eyes. There’s something so satisfying about his expression, the clash between anguish and need. “Please, Tsukishima-kun—”

A part of Kei wants to stay like this forever, fingers carded through Yamaguchi’s hair as he swallows up everything about the way he looks now, but Kei’s dick is hard in his boxers and even he can’t bring himself to be that cruel. Yamaguchi’s lower lip sticking out.

Kei releases his head, then, and Yamaguchi is on him, mouthing at his cock through his underwear, tongue so warm he can feel the wet heat through the fabric. The sensation is only enough to make Kei want more, the feel of those lips around the head of his cock, but he can’t bring himself to interrupt what Yamaguchi is doing, the frenzied lave of his tongue over his boxers.

It’s cute, how Yamaguchi is so desperate to taste him he can’t even afford to wait the amount of time it would take to peel off his boxers. How just the feel of his cock over his underwear is enough for Yamaguchi to lose himself the way he is, mouthing at the side of his dick through fabric.

Kei rakes his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair, and he watches as Yamaguchi’s eyes find their way to his, pupils clouded with something Kei’s never seen in them until just now. For a while, it feels like Yamaguchi is seeing through him, and then Yamaguchi blinks, eyes suddenly unbelievably wide, like he needs to take in as much of him as he can, and a whine escapes his lips.

“More,” Yamaguchi mumbles, gaze turned downwards now, pulling down the elastic waistband of his boxers. “’S’not— ’S’not enough.”

“You’re such a slut,” Kei breathes. “It’s gross. How desperate you are for my cock.”

Yamaguchi isn’t listening, lost in Kei’s scent. His eyes go wide again when it pops out, slick with precum and saliva. Yamaguchi licks his lips when he looks at it, but he’s nervous again, the way he was when he just knelt down. Hesitantly, Yamaguchi reaches out to touch it, feels the weight in his hand, runs his fingers over the tip. The soft, scared touch of his fingers is electric against Kei’s skin.

Kei watches as Yamaguchi absentmindedly puts a finger in his mouth to taste the precum, and it takes everything in him to not grab the back of his scalp and fuck his throat raw.

Kei closes and opens his eyes – such a waste, to be doing this while Yamaguchi is underneath him, lips so wet and eyes so wide – and grounds himself. Patience. It’s worth it to watch Yamaguchi swallow and force himself forward, as he kisses the side of his dick, mouth open, tongue laving circles.

Just like before, the anxiety immediately evaporates and Yamaguchi loses himself in it, openmouthed kisses on Kei’s length that last too long, working his way up and down the sides. Eventually, it starts being too slow for him, and Yamaguchi starts licking the entire length of his cock, rapid and frenzied, like he can’t get enough of it.

It’s cute, watching Yamaguchi like this, so enticed by the taste of Kei’s dick that he loses himself in it. But it’s Yamaguchi beneath Kei, the boy he’s spent so long staring at in the bleachers, thinking about every free moment, and the feel of his fingers and his mouth makes Kei feel more sensitive than he ever has, and suddenly—

The temporary sensation of tongue and mouth on him this way stops being enough. He wants Yamaguchi to swallow him whole. He wants to swallow Yamaguchi whole.

“I thought you wanted to suck my dick,” he says, keeping his voice the perfect level of detached, not forcing himself not to betray the desperation he’s feeling. “Don’t tell me you’re not even good for this.”

The sound of Kei’s voice is enough to bring Yamaguchi out of whatever trance he’s in.

“I’m— I never— I—” There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes that only makes Kei harder, and then Yamaguchi’s mouth envelops the head of his cock, tongue swirling circles around the tip.

It’s relief, at first, the new depth of this sensation, but Yamaguchi lingers too long lapping up precum, tasting him so delicately, and _it isn’t enough._

Kei takes the back of Yamaguchi’s head in his hand the way he’s done before – Yamaguchi leans into it like it’s something comfortable, and it’s so adorable, the way he hasn’t learned yet – and thrusts, forcing the head of his cock into the back of his throat. Yamaguchi yelps against him, and the reverberation of his voice on his cock almost makes Kei moan.

Kei holds Yamaguchi’s head there, nose pressed into his pubic hair. Yamaguchi reflexively swallows around him, and there’s something nice about his still tongue, the soft breaths he can feel at his hip. That all Kei has to do is keep his hand still, and Yamaguchi will stay where he is.

His eyes are so wide now, looking up at him. Tears welling up in his eyes, rolling down his round, freckled cheeks. “You’re useless at this, huh? Even though you’re such a slut? That’s pathetic.”

He feels himself smile as he releases his head and strokes his hair again as Yamaguchi comes off his cock with a gasp. Kei holds his head still with one hand, slapping Yamaguchi’s cute, round cheeks with his cock with the other, something satisfying in the soft smacking sound. After a while, Yamaguchi’s freckled cheeks are tinted pink, from soreness or embarrassment, and Kei decides to try for a little more, then, rubs the scent of precum into his face, relishes the way Yamaguchi leans into it, breathing in softly through his nose.

When the feel of Yamaguchi’s soft skin against his cock gets too much and the thought of the warmth on the inside of his mouth get too tempting, Kei pulls his cock away, smacks Yamaguchi in the cheek when he whines. “Just stay still and let me fuck your mouth, won’t you? So someone like you can at least be good for something.”

Yamaguchi is still crying so cutely, sniffing every now and then, but he doesn’t pull back as Kei gently fixes his hands to grip his head, only stares up at him, lips glossy and stuck out in a pout. Kei thinks about kissing it away, of taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting, just gently, and then shakes the thought, peels off his pants, and pushes his cock into his throat.

He starts slow at first, decides to be nice and let Yamaguchi ease into it. The heat of Yamaguchi’s mouth wraps around him, comfortable and satisfying the same way it is to slip into a heavy jacket at the beginning of snowfall. Yamaguchi is prepared when Kei ruts into his throat this time, just swallows around him, something pleasant and deliberate.

While Kei thrusts, Yamaguchi tries his best to move his tongue over as much of his cock as he can, either trying to make it pleasurable or not tasting enough of him, and both of those thoughts are enough to make his cock even harder in Yamaguchi’s mouth, and suddenly it stops being enough.

It was sweet before, how hard he was trying even as his eyes teared up, but Kei can’t bring himself to care about that anymore as he tightens his grip on Yamaguchi’s skull and starts thrusting faster. Yamaguchi’s tongue stills around him, throat tightening each time he ruts into the back of it, harder every thrust.

“You’re taking it so well, Yamaguchi,” Kei says, slightly short of breath as he pushes deeper into Yamaguchi’s throat. “This is why you never spoke to me until today, isn’t it? Because your mouth’s only good for being my cocksleeve. You’d waste my time trying to use it for something else.”

There are tears rolling down Yamaguchi’s cheeks now, from what he’s saying or from how aggressively Kei is using his throat, and Kei can’t stop thinking about it. Yamaguchi was born to do this. The way he followed him all the way to a love hotel, how easy it was to get him on his knees. How pretty he is when his cheeks are wet and his throat is spasming around him.

Yamaguchi is trying to say something, muffled by Kei’s cock, and the vibrations of his voice and the movement of his tongue are enough to push Kei over the edge, and with one last thrust, he fills the back of his throat with cum and pulls out, taking his cock in his hand and painting Yamaguchi’s round cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

He rubs it into his face, relishes in the way Yamaguchi is nuzzling his dick. How long his eyelashes are, and the soft moans escaping his lips.

“You’re pretty like this,” Kei whispers, moving his cock to the other cheek. Yamaguchi whines for the lost second of contact. “Covered in my cum. You’re mine, you know? My needy slut.”

“Mmm,” Yamaguchi moans before he moves to kiss the length of his dick. “I’m— I am.”

And that’s— Yamaguchi’s been desperate the whole time he’s been sucking his cock, and Kei’s known it’s because he’s disgusting, pathetic, desperate, has been masturbating to thoughts of him since he’s known how, but to hear it in Yamaguchi’s voice…

He wants to kiss him on the mouth suddenly, fucked out and satisfied as Yamaguchi looks, licking his cock, but he doesn’t. He remembers, faintly, that he’d wanted his cum to dry on Yamaguchi, for him to think about the person who did this to him while it hardened on his face, but he realizes he doesn’t need to anymore. That Yamaguchi knows who he belongs to. That he deserves a reward for it.

He pulls Yamaguchi up, sits him next to him on the bed and then lays him back as he carefully scoops up the cum on his face with his fingers and hand-feeds it to him. Yamaguchi sucks and licks his fingers so thoroughly it’s like he’s giving him head. When it’s all gone, he strokes the side of Yamaguchi’s face and then stands up and puts his pants back on, leaving him satisfied on the bed, still a little out of it.

In the restroom, he finds a small face towel and runs it under warm water, wringing it thoroughly so it doesn’t drip. When Kei goes back out, there are tears running down his cheeks as he sniffs, mouth turned down in a ridiculous frown and nipples visible through his shirt, and his right hand is palming at his dick through his clothes.

He sits to the side of him on the bed, takes his right hand in his. “Don’t cry,” he says, gently wiping his face with the towel. “There’s no reason to.”

Yamaguchi sniffs again, eyes still watery. “Thought you— Thought you were gonna— gonna leave me—”

“I’m not that cruel. I know how desperate you are for my cock,” Kei says, reaching over Yamaguchi to set the towel aside on the night-table. “All those years you’ve been staring at me from the bleachers. The price of a train ticket to Tokyo. You make it obvious, how much you want it.”

“’S’not because…” Yamaguchi starts to say, and then trails off. Abruptly, he leans up and wraps his arms around Kei’s neck, buries his face into his chest. “Stay— Stay here, please. I don’t want you to…"

Yamaguchi cuts off, like he can’t even bear to say it out loud and it’s funny, Kei thinks. Yamaguchi thought he’d clean up in the bathroom and then leave, leave him there to deal with his hard-on by himself, stranded in a shady part of Tokyo.

It hadn’t been a possibility that even crossed Kei’s mind, Yamaguchi’s imagination running wild this way while he went to get him a towel. But that it affected him so much it made him cry while he masturbated through his pants, too embarrassed to strip completely while Kei was in the hotel room, even though he must have been desperate for it, the way he sucked so eagerly at his fingers…

“Cute,” Kei hears himself say as he runs his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair, soft and lush. Yamaguchi makes another noise, and Kei snaps back into himself, lowering him on the bed and reaching to take something out of the drawer on Yamaguchi’s side of the bed. “Lie back. I can’t do anything when you cling to me like that.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi says, pouting subconsciously when they lose contact. Kei leaves the bottle he picked up on their side of the bed and pulls up at the end of his shirt, Yamaguchi helping him as he takes it off.

Sweet, how obedient he is even when he doesn’t want to be. Kei tosses his shirt somewhere far in the corner of the hotel room, since he won’t be needing it anymore.

Yamaguchi’s frame is slender, soft for how small it is, and Kei runs his hands over his sides, almost laughs at how much he shivers over a simple touch. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers over a hard nipple.

It’s barely a second of contact, but Yamaguchi yelps at the touch, louder than he did when he pushed his cock into his mouth. “You’re sensitive here, Yamaguchi. Like a girl,” Kei says, playing with one of his nipples, tugging and pinching. “You could come like this, couldn’t you? Just from me playing with your tits.”

Yamaguchi’s cheeks are flushed, and he won’t look at Kei, but he makes a noise of assent and Kei pulls harshly at his nipple. Yamaguchi moans, and Kei moves his hands to Yamaguchi’s belt.

“Tsu— Tsukishima-san,” Yamaguchi says, reaching out to brush his shoulder with his hand. “Please… Please touch me again. I’m… ’S’cold…”

“At least you’re honest,” Kei comments as he unbuttons Yamaguchi’s jeans and pulls them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. “But it’s annoying if you can’t be patient. Just wait, Yamaguchi.”

“Mm…” Yamaguchi breathes out in a way that sounds more like a whine. Still, it’s agreement, so Kei decides to reward him for it, pinches his nipple as he squeezes his ass through his underwear. When Yamaguchi cries out, Kei leans down to suck at his other one, laving circles over the hard skin.

It’s only for a minute, and Yamaguchi whines when he comes up again. Instead of chiding him again, Kei squeezes his ass harder, relishing the way he cries out. “It’s a waste for you to wear these ugly briefs,” Kei says as he puts two fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pulls it down. “A fat ass like yours shouldn’t be in anything other than silk and lace.”

Yamaguchi won’t meet his eyes even as he shimmies out of it, just turns away to try to hide the red on his face. His hand drifts to his own chest, playing with it the way Kei had been doing before, and Kei takes Yamaguchi’s hand in his own.

“You’ll be wearing panties the next time I fuck you, won’t you, Yamaguchi?” Kei asks, leaning over Yamaguchi now, their joined hands against the mattress. He watches as Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, something bright in them, and he moves to meet his gaze.

His pupils are so large, Kei thinks. He wonders how it took him so long to notice.

“N—Next…” Yamaguchi whispers, voice so low Kei doesn’t think he even hears himself, and then he turns away, cheeks pink, and he nods. “I… I will.”

Kei can’t hold back the way he laughs then, something oddly softer than his usual laugh. It’s strange, and he sits up, leaves Yamaguchi’s hand uncovered on the bed. Yamaguchi doesn’t try to touch himself again, this time.

“Didn’t even need convincing,” Kei says, reaching for the bottle he left on the side of the bed and slicking up his fingers. “You really are a whore, aren’t you?”

Yamaguchi pouts, then, the way he always does before he decides he’s too desperate for Kei’s cock to argue, but instead of just looking away in embarrassment, he whimpers out, “I’m not a whore.” But before Kei can punish him for it, sharp words or a smack to his ass, he speaks again. “Because— Because it’s you.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes are clear even as his cheeks go red as strawberries, and Kei pinches his face, then, smiles a little bit to himself. _Cute_ , he thinks as he pumps two fingers into Yamaguchi’s ass.

Yamaguchi cries out even as Kei meets almost no resistance, pumping his fingers in and out of Yamaguchi. He adds a third one without asking, without even telling Yamaguchi, and relishes in how readily his insides accept him, the deep moans that accompany every push of his finger.

“This is easy,” he comments, smiling kindly at Yamaguchi. “Have you fantasized about this before? Fingered yourself pretending it was me?”

It’s a nice thought, one Kei knows has to have some semblance of truth to it, with how quickly he took to his dick, how eagerly his insides swallow his fingers. The way he moans, he must have always wanted it. But—

But, Kei remembers, all Kei had to do to get him to come with him to a love hotel was ask. Because it’s Kei, and Yamaguchi’s always been obsessed with him, would do anything if he asked, but he remembers how happily he took his cock, how loose his insides are, and suddenly all he can see is red.

“Did you do this with someone else?” he hears himself ask, pumping violently now. “You’re such a desperate slut, you must have gotten on your knees for anyone who asked. Begged them to fill you with cock. That’s— I’ll—”

“It’s— It’s not enough,” Yamaguchi cries out. “Please, Tsukki, please, I— Tsukki—”

That quickly, Kei’s mind clears. _Tsukki_ , some awful, cutesy nickname, somehow sweet in Yamaguchi’s voice. Disrespectful, maybe, for someone who never knew him, but Kei’s never cared as much about people being polite to him as people think he does and it’s Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi who’s obsessed with him, watching every single game he’s played for years – calling him _Tsukki_ all this time? Like they’re friends?

It’s something pleasant in Kei’s chest, something like he wants to laugh, but also—

He’s leaning down before he realizes, pressing his lips to Yamaguchi’s forehead as he moves his fingers in and out of him, satisfaction despite the soreness in his forearm growing with every whine that passes Yamaguchi’s lips. “Yamaguchi,” Kei says, voice somehow softer now despite the firmness in his tone, “you didn’t answer my question. Did you do this with someone else?”

The thought isn’t as sharp as it was before, not with the desperate look in Yamaguchi’s eyes and the way every _Tsukki_ sounds on his lips, breathless and needy and _practiced_. Kei must have been an idiot to entertain that possibility for more than a second, really. It’s _Yamaguchi_.

“That’s not it, is it? It’s what I said before. You spent some of the money you hide away for train tickets to Tokyo on a big plastic dildo and imagined it was my cock splitting you open each time you shoved it inside of you,” Kei says, and the corners of Yamaguchi’s mouth turn down in the most adorable way, even as he begs him to fuck him. “But isn’t that disgusting? Masturbating to someone who doesn’t even know your name. Calling them—”

“Sorry, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi suddenly cries out, louder and more passionate than the way he’d been begging before. Like this is more important. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just— because you’re so— I—"

There’s something about the sound of those words on Yamaguchi’s tongue, something lyrical and sweet in a way he’s never thought of another person’s voice, something that makes Kei think about hearing it every day for the rest of his life.

Before he can ruminate on the thought – as if he can ruminate on anything, the way Yamaguchi looks stretched out on the hotel bed, breathing out _Tsukki_ and gasping on his fingers – Kei finds his lips is pressed firmly against Yamaguchi’s, chaste until Yamaguchi throws his arms around Kei’s neck, parting his lips to taste the inside of Kei’s mouth.

Yamaguchi is as desperate as he was on his cock, the way he kisses Kei like it’s the last time he ever will – as if Kei would let that be true – and he almost gets wrapped into it as he takes his fingers out of Yamaguchi. Almost forgets himself, lets himself be content with making out with Yamaguchi the entire night, like some fourteen year-old on his first real date.

Embarrassing. Kei parts their lips even as Yamaguchi’s hold around his neck stays iron. “Tsu— Tsukki—”

“Just wait, Yamaguchi,” Kei says as he slides into him, and then swallows Yamaguchi’s yelp of surprise as he presses his mouth to his.

Yamaguchi is tight around him, slick and hot, and there’s something else to it, too, something whole about being inside Yamaguchi. Like Kei’s life has been leading up to this moment, like he was made for this, or— Yamaguchi was made for this. Yamaguchi was made for _him_.

That thought tastes as sweet as the inside of Yamaguchi’s mouth, shouts itself over the overload of _something_ spreading from his insides to the tips of his fingers, but it sours just slightly the longer he thinks about it.

How long it took. The last volleyball game in his senior year. Absently, Kei nips at Yamaguchi’s bottom lip, and the whine that follows is enough to pull Kei out of his thoughts.

“Tsukki, it— it hurts,” Yamaguchi says against his mouth, but before Kei can say anything – an apology, or more likely something about how it wasn’t even enough to draw blood – he continues. “I’ve been waiting— I’ve been waiting _so long_ , and you won’t even— Tsukki, Tsukki, please—”

Kei hates this, usually, when people get so caught up in whatever they’re feeling that they can’t speak intelligibly, but there’s something sweet about Yamaguchi’s incoherent babble. He thinks about asking him to clarify, to stop being such a needy whore and say what he means, but his mouth is pressed against Yamaguchi’s before he realizes, chaste for the position they’re in.

Yamaguchi is still whining against his mouth, and he’s the first one to pull away from Kei this time. Kei twists one of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and Yamaguchi cries out again, tightening his grip around Kei’s neck enough to bring him closer to him.

“Tsukki!” he says furiously into Kei’s ear, and the boy whining underneath him, daring enough to break a kiss with the person he’s been obsessed with for years just to scold him, is so far away from the boy who could barely bring himself to greet him in the gymnasium hallways. Kei smiles at the memory, and then Yamaguchi speaks again. “ _Fuck_ me!”

Kei can’t help the way he laughs then, even if he’s kind enough to pull out of Yamaguchi as he does. Embarrassing, the way he’d gotten so caught up in it that he stayed seated inside of him and barely realized, but… if he gets to hear those words on Yamaguchi’s mouth, so desperate to feel him that he can’t even think straight. He doesn’t mind it. “Needy,” he says. “I didn’t even have to ask you to beg for it.”

Kei pushes in quickly, and the sound of Yamaguchi’s uneven breathing is almost like music. He fucks him that way for a while, pulling out slowly before pushing back in without giving him a minute to breathe. He relishes the sound of Yamaguchi choking back moans, and then he feels himself hit him differently, feels the way he tightens around him, and suddenly Yamaguchi’s voice is enough to fill the room.

Music. “You moan like a whore,” Kei says as he runs his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair, but he can tell that the words barely register.

He stops pumping in and out of him, then, ignoring the way Yamaguchi breathes out his nickname as breaks Yamaguchi’s hold around his neck. He takes his hands and presses them to the mattress, keeping them in place with a single hand as he flicks at a nipple with the other, eventually brings it to his cock and slides into him.

The sound Yamaguchi makes then, how easily his insides swallow Kei. It’s too much. Kei fucks him furiously, then, unable to restrain himself the way he did before. He remembers the little pleasures he took in it before – the way Yamaguchi would gasp every time he pushed back in – but he can’t imagine it comparing to this. The litany of _Thank you, Tsukki_ s escaping Yamaguchi’s pink lips as he tries to catch his breath, how he clenches himself around Kei like it might keep him in him longer.

Kei can’t stop looking at Yamaguchi. How he’s out of his mind with bliss but can’t tear his eyes from Kei’s face, how he’s so content to lie back and take what Kei gives him that he doesn’t try to break his arms out of Kei’s grip. The pebbling of pretty brown nipples, the skin around them still red from Kei’s mouth, the way his cock stands straight as he fucks him but he knows enough to not try to reach for it while Kei is watching.

The look on Yamaguchi’s face. He wonders how long he’s dreamed of this. In some act of small mercy – or maybe because he misses the feeling of the hard skin beneath his tongue – Kei brings his mouth to his chest again, laves at Yamaguchi’s nipple as he fucks him, enjoys the harmony as small cries after Kei nibbles on his chest accompany his moans.

“Tsukki, I’m— I’m going— going to—!” Yamaguchi breathes out, and Kei moves his mouth back to Yamaguchi’s, swallowing his words as he fucks him harder. There’s something different about the way Yamaguchi is clenching around him now, something bringing something else out in Kei that he can’t hold back anymore.

The sound Yamaguchi makes as he comes is low and sexy, and Kei can barely think about anything other than Yamaguchi’s voice and the way he feels clenched around him. There’s a soreness growing in his hips, something pleasurable in the burn, and he’s lost control over it, the way he fucks Yamaguchi.

The feeling starts mounting them, but just as Kei starts consider pulling out of Yamaguchi, he crosses his legs over his back and pulls his mouth down to his. The warmth of his mouth then, and the way Yamaguchi tightens around him, purposeful as he smiles against his lips. Kei loses control, then, paints Yamaguchi’s insides with his come, and Yamaguchi kisses him harder.

“Thank you, Tsukki,” he says, still so hazy that he can barely hear himself.

You’re welcome, Kei could say. Or thank you. Whore. A myriad of phrases come to Kei’s mind, a myriad of things that could make Yamaguchi smile or feel embarrassed or hate himself when he wakes up. Instead of saying them, Kei presses his lips to Yamaguchi’s one last time before he pulls out and goes back to the bathroom.

By the time he comes back out after rinsing himself off and dampening a towel, Yamaguchi is snoring quietly, and the sight is enough to make something swirl in Kei’s chest. Gently, he wipes the cum off of Yamaguchi’s stomach with a towel.

He sleeps like he’s dead, Kei thinks to himself when he’s done.

But it isn’t really a thought he cares about, and by the time Yamaguchi’s curled into his chest, blanket pulled over the both of him, he strokes his hair anyway.

♜

When Kei gets back to the hotel room, Yamaguchi is struggling with his belt and crying again. It’s cute enough to make Kei smile.

“Is there a reason you’re upset?” Kei asks, the smile off his face. The little “o” shape Yamaguchi’s pink lips make as they part is enough to make Kei think about kissing him. He doesn’t.

“I thought you…” Yamaguchi starts to say, and then remembers himself as his cheeks start lighting up redder than they were when he was crying. “Um.”

There’s something nice about Yamaguchi like this. Red cheeks and how he tries to hide the way he sniffs as he pulls on his rumpled t-shirt. Kei could pull the reason out of him, make it hard for him to make him meet his eyes, or maybe even make him cry again. Kei likes that thought, how it goes straight to his groin.

But Yamaguchi was sweet last night. Kei lets him get away without even making an excuse. “I got breakfast,” he says, tossing the convenience store bag in his hands to Yamaguchi’s side. “It’s only bread. We have to be out by ten.”

Yamaguchi rifles through the bag, pulling out red bean bread and barley tea. “Hey, this is my favorite!” he says, beaming at Kei over a couple hundred yen.

“It was on the shelf,” Kei half-lies as he sits next to Yamaguchi on the bed, but Yamaguchi is barely paying attention, already tearing open the packaging and taking a bite out.

There’s something about Yamaguchi then that Kei can’t tear his eyes from. How wide his smile is just because he brought him convenience store food. Yamaguchi must feel him staring, because he turns his eyes to meet his, and Kei can’t help noticing the way they crinkle when he smiles. “Thanks, Tsukishima-kun!”

There’s a little bit of bean paste smeared on the side of Yamaguchi’s mouth. Kei doesn’t like the way it makes him feel. “Yamaguchi,” Kei says as he wipes it off with his forefinger and licks it off. (Not sweet enough, he thinks.) “Just call me Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi eyes widen, cheeks red, smile frozen on his face. This is the satisfaction Kei is familiar with, the kind he’s been craving since the first day he saw him in the bleachers. He thinks about brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, and making a comment about the way he said his name last night.

Instead, he turns his gaze away from him, rubbing the back of his neck. Kei can feel something tugging at the back of his mind, something about feeling a little emptier now than a minute ago and that maybe he prefers the way he looked before.

Suddenly, there’s a nudge at Kei’s shoulder, and he hears the crinkle of plastic. When he turns, Yamaguchi is holding out the other piece of bread Kei bought, forced smile still on his face. “You should eat, too! Uh… Tsukki.”

 _Tsukki._ There’s something different about the sound of it, when Yamaguchi isn’t writhing underneath him. He isn’t sure how he feels about it. “Mm,” he says as he takes it from him and starts unwrapping it. “Thanks, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi smile changes then, and it isn’t as wide as it was before but there’s something genuine in the gentle curve at the ends of his lips.

The inside of Kei’s chest is warm, somehow, somewhere between sunlight and heated blankets. The light from the hotel window makes Yamaguchi looks like he’s glowing.

As he takes a bite out of the piece of bread Yamaguchi handed to him, Kei resolves not to think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> dubcon -- yamaguchi enjoys it, wants it, but the way it happens makes him feel a little bad about himself; tsukishima pressures him at the start when he feels like he's being punk'd ("you can either suck my dick or go home")  
> power dynamics -- yamaguchi would do almost anything tsukishima tells him to because he's been obsessed with him since middle school and tsukishima knows this  
> possessive tsukishima kei -- tsukishima is jealous over him having friends (mostly because they are not friends)
> 
> \--
> 
> hope you liked it! there will probably be a sequel but i'm a slow writer. take care.
> 
> i also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/nighttables/status/1263554870147244036) but i don't know what to do with it.


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